fromunderthestump:

(submitted by Daniel)

Imagine that you’re the reason Patrick’s making his face, right up on stage.

Now, you could imagine the more logical and realistic answer; that his mind is straying to ‘other’ things, lost in the music.

Or you could imagine the better answer.

As he’s singing, those little grunts and silent moans that he’s allowing to slip past his lips as drowned out by the music filling the venue. His fingers shakily tread over the chords and notes, a stand blocking the view of him from the waist down.

Beneath that shrouded table, there you are; your lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, cheeks hollowed, head bobbing slowly as you flick and dart your tongue along the sensitive underside of his length.

Nobody seems to notice as he thrusts slightly into your warm mouth, helping to quicken his swiftly escalating climax.

Pete, Andy, and Joe are pretending not to notice; if anything, it’s funny to them. They don’t look, act like nothing is going on beneath that table. Pete’s trying not to laugh, Andy refuses to look in that general direction at all, and Joe just focuses on his guitar.

It doesn’t come as much of a shock as Patrick bites back a sharp gasp, tilting his head back and biting down on his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he spilled his release down your throat. His face heats a deep shade of red as you pull away, quickly by carefully tugging his jeans back up.

He moves away after a moment of calming down, beginning to play as per normal again, his guitar mainly held over his hips, like it should. However, when he moves it, screams echo throughout the building.

You forgot the zipper and buttons.